Angel Wings
by Trixie3
Summary: Jyoushiro, AU. Jyou goes away only to come back home to disaster


Title: Angel Wings 1/1  
Author: Trixie  
Status: Completed  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: Crappy attempt at horror. Graphic (well not really) description of squicky stuff. ^^;  
Pairings: Jyoushiro  
Disclaimer: Digimon and its characters do NOT belong to me, I am only   
writing for pleasure purposes, and not for profit. Please do not sue.  
Author Notes: *~*~* denotes time change 

"Jyou?" a soft voice called out through the inky night, instantly swallowed up by the deep forest surrounding the lonely figure.

            Instinctively, a tall, blue-haired youth, a few yards away, turned around as if he had heard a great shout.  A small sigh escaped from his lips as he saw the familiar shadowy image.  After contemplating what to do, the youth decided to go back and confront the other.

            "Koushiro," the youth stated simply, eyeing the shorter of the two with weary affection.

            "I…" Koushiro, as he was called, whispered.  He could not finish what he wanted to say and decided to look at the dark dirt beneath him.

            Extending an elegant, calloused hand, the taller youth lifted Koushiro's chin so that they were looking at each other.

            "Don't hide from me, my angel," the blue-haired one breathed.

            Dark, fathomless pools of darkest ebony gazed back with such a great sorrow that the taller youth felt a sudden surge of panic – what could be wrong?

            "I… you… you can't leave me," Koushiro said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.  If there had been a breeze, it would have surely carried away his words.

            The taller youth finally understood.

            "My angel, I won't be gone for long, I promise.  I must go and defend our country, otherwise we will be overthrown, and who knows what will happen to us if those barbarians gain control.  I must leave," came the passionate answer.

            "No… all will be lost… I… I… if you leave, I will not be hear when – if – you return…" Koushiro replied, his soft voice quivering.  Mentally, he cursed his disability.  Why did he have to be so frail?  Why did his body have to be so weak that he could not join his love in battle?  And why could he not talk like the others, confined only to his whispery voice?

            "Shh, don't say things which you do not know of, my angel.  I will be back before you know it, and all will not be lost.  And I know that you will be here, where I will find you well.  I look forward to that day," the blue-haired assured.

            "You… you don't understand, I _know_, if you leave… I will…" he could finish, it was too horrible.  Albeit his weak body, Koushiro had extraordinary supernatural talents, and he had a horrid revelation come to him the moment his love had stepped over the threshold of his family's quaint home. 

            That was why he was out here in the cold, aggravating his weakened body – trying so valiantly to prevent the terrible fate that would happen if the other left.

            "Nonsense.  Please go back home, you are not suited to be out here.  I don't want anything to happen to my angel.  Now go," the taller youth ordered gently.

            "Please, Jyou…"

            "I must leave."

            "Oh, Jyou…"

            "Go home, my angel.  My heart will be with you until I return," the one called Jyou stated firmly, turning away from the broken image of his love.  He retraced his path through the forest, aware of the dolorous gaze that burned into his back.  He had his duty to fulfill.  The quicker he arrived at the battle, the sooner he would be able to return to his angel.  

            "Yes… always your angel…" Koushiro whispered, a silent tear trailing down his pale cheek.

            And thus, Jyou left, not to return for another year…

*~*~*~*~*

            He stumbled through the dense forest, attempting to find a path that would lead him to his home village.  His clothing was in tatters, stained with enemy and allied blood alike.  His once well kept cerulean locks were now in strangled clumps, mixed with dirt and goodness only knows what. 

            A pink tongue flicked out in hopes of soothing the bleeding, cracked lips that were once so full.  The man had to rest against a tree for a moment to collect his rasping breath.  Leaning against the rough bark, he gingerly rewrapped the scarlet bandage around the deep wound that had been cut into his thigh.  He hissed in pain as he tightened the wet cloth, but mentally told himself that he would be home soon and then all would be well.

            He would be with his angel again.

            A small smile graced the hardened features, allowing the face to revert back to its old youthful composure momentarily.

            Yes, Koushiro would be home.  He had missed his angel greatly – yearned for him every night as he had slept on the cold ground, alone and battered.

            But they had won!  They had driven those insidious barbarians back.  The last of those infidels had cowardly run away, obviously realizing the power of his people.

            Shaking himself from these thoughts, Jyou willed himself to stand back up and continue his trek back to his home.  The forest had grown wild while he was gone, and he could no longer find the path that led to the small village.  But Jyou was a child of the forest, and he was sure he would find his home soon enough.

            Stumbling along for what seemed hours, Jyou cursed his memory – why had he not found the village yet?  Rubbing his tired eyes, Jyou looked up to see the faint hint of sunrise lighting the sky.  He had walked around all night long, and yet, he had not came across his home.  

            Crying out in frustration, Jyou didn't notice the large log in his path until he tripped over it.  Grunting in annoyance, Jyou scrambled up and turned to kick the "log" when his obsidian eyes fell upon the set of empty eye sockets gazing up at him.  

            Jyou stumbled back in horror – what was this?!

            Taking a closer look, Jyou found that the "log" was a body… and it was dead… and from the looks of it, had been dead for no more than a week…

            Hesitantly reaching out to search the body for any identification, Jyou lifted the loose tunic and jumped back with a yell.

            He stared down in disbelief at the horrid image before him.  Where there should have been a chest of a man, there was a great cavity.  And this cavity was not empty, but rather, it was filled with writhing insects that were eating away the decaying flesh.  

            Jyou had to fight the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.  

            Of course he had seen images similar to this… he had fought in a battle after all, but this… this was absolutely disgusting.  From the looks of it, the poor man, now dead, had been nothing more than a villager who – 

            Jyou's heart stopped beating.

            A villager…

            In the woods around his home…

            A terrible numbness suddenly grasped Jyou.

            And then he ran.

            Jyou needn't have identified the dead carcass behind him to know that the man was from his home… something deep down within him confirmed it.

            Jyou ran blindly, vainly searching the dense forest for the sign of his village.

            He prayed to his god that the village was safe; that what he feared was not true.  

            And just as the golden sun rose above the peaks of the verdant trees, Jyou came to his home.

            What was left of it.

            Gazing about wildly, Jyou choked back the cry that tried to escape his throat.  What he saw was more terrible than what he saw in battle… so much worse.

            There before him, lay the ruins of what was once his home…  there were wisps of smoke still smoldering from the ashes of what must have had been houses.  Mutilated bodies littered the crimson-colored ground; decapitated heads, still screaming in terror, stared at Jyou as he stumbled through the wreckage.

            Arms, legs, torsos were strewn about the grounds, as if some morbid artist had arranged them to his liking.  He had to avert his eyes from the naked body of a little girl, no more than four years old, who had been speared with a spike through her little neck.  

            But one thing burned in his mind.

            Koushiro.

            Jyou couldn't help the tears that fell down his cheeks.  He had the great sinking feeling that he would not find his angel miraculously unharmed, but rather… dead.

            Crying out his beloved's name, Jyou staggered about the remains of the village, searching for Koushiro.

            As he searched through the bodies, Jyou suddenly realized something: What if Koushiro's body was not whole… what if whoever attacked the village, had… had ripped his angel apart?  How would he ever find his beloved then?

            Swallowing the bile that threatened to force its way through his throat, Jyou continued his vain search.

            Finally, his feet brought him to the church, which had for some reason been left relatively unscathed.  A very cold chill ran down Jyou's spine as he stepped into the small church.

            And then he screamed.

            There hanging from the ceiling by a rope around his lovely neck was Koushiro… his angel…

            But that was not why Jyou had screamed.

            His angel now had wings sprouting from his back…

            They were his lungs.

~OWARI~


End file.
